


Five Minutes

by Squiddiboo



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, army's here for like five minutes and the S4 are all mentioned, don't ask where Avi is he's just not in this one, genuinely didn't mean to write this today AKDJDKD, it's qp skullvin as always lads, mild vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squiddiboo/pseuds/Squiddiboo
Summary: Being a leader is hard. Being the leader of three other leaders is even harder. Especially when you kind of suck at dealing with your own feelings.Fortunately for Skull, he's got someone who really cares about him.Set post ranked arc, set post ramen/ohagi, set post like, half my wips, idk WHY I suddenly decided to write this (I do know, it's a vent fic LMAO) but it's here now instead of later.Should I make my skullvin stuff into a full series? Probably.
Relationships: Skull & Vintage (Splatoon), Skull/Vintage (Splatoon)
Kudos: 9





	Five Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> I got some really bad news today so my kinnie ass is here to project it all onto these two because lord knows I need a hug.

Paper up, head down, pen in one hand and hot chocolate in the other. Skull's leaned over plans and maps and documents and Vintage watches from across the table as the purple inkling alternates between writing with that almost worn out biro of his, and chewing on the end of it. He's no stranger to Skull's stresses at this point, his QPP's complaining seeping into their text conversations, but he's hardly had five minutes alone with his partner for weeks as the upcoming tournament draws near. It's a big one for the S4: Aloha's managed to snag a sponsorship deal in one of his recent interviews, and not only are they completely favoured to win, but they're also expected to pull out new tricks.

"Honestly, Aloha can't keep his mouth shut in interviews sometimes." Skull had rambled about it the last time they'd gone for coffee, or in Skull's case, an elaborate cream mocha with a caramel chocolate shortcake. "It's a pain, but not the end of the world, thank Cod… We have time to work on something."

That had been two months ago, and the last time they'd managed to find the time to spend a Saturday morning chatting away to casual beats and rich aromas. It wasn't that Vintage didn't miss it, but he knew his partner was busy, and decided to try and bring him an extra cake every now and then to make up for it.

Then the bar got knocked a little higher. Mask had been playing around with other rollers, which meant the four had less of an idea of exactly what composition they'd be using for the tournament. Aloha kept alternating between his usual Gal and its Kensa variant, and Army had even been dabbling with the '83. It was only when they collectively pulled out three Ink Storms in one match that their resident note taking fanatic decided to call them into an emergency meeting, and Skull had to last minute cancel a lunch with Vintage, promising on his bandana to make it up to him.

"Everyone's playing around with new weapons and we really need to get it sorted." Even through the filter of the phone and the wind of Moray Towers, Vintage had felt the disappointment in Skull's voice. "Army's demanding we all meet up and discuss it tomorrow, so I'll have to cancel… I'm sorry."

Vintage had told him it's fine, and they'd called that evening to make up for it, but Skull had sounded so exhausted Vintage just let him go to bed. The sniper had managed three more days of peace until a plumbing issue left the whole S4 house without water, and Mask had nonchalantly brushed this off to the team leader for him to deal with instead. He needed more practice that day to familiarise himself with the Flingza, and Army had to plan and plot positions in time for their next practice the day after, and Aloha actually had a decent excuse to be busy due to another interview that same morning. This was normally the most relaxed day on Skull's Turf timetable, and so Vintage would normally stop by whenever the rotation fell to something unfavorable. He'd called briefly to ask if he could crash by for a bit and dip out of Kelp Dome Tower Control, only to be met by voicemail twice, and eventually an exasperated Skull.

"I can't let you, unfortunately, water's down, so we can't have anyone over," - Skull had pulled the phone away - "I'm calling someone about it Mask, leave me alone! Sorry, you know how he is."

Vintage understood but cod, did he miss Skull! The sniper had been harassed left, right and centre by issue after issue, and now the tournament loomed only a week away, and he's still huddled over diagrams and making last minute plans. Too tired to argue, Skull had let Vintage insist his way into the S4 house and sit with him as he fumbled over paperwork, the familiar bandana slipping off his face, Skull too focused to notice and Vintage too worried to point it out. He almost wants to reach out and grab the inkling's spare hand, when Army marches downstairs and into the dining room.

"Skull! How's the planning coming along?"

"It's coming along." Skull gives a monotone response without so much as looking up.

"Good, good." Army rocks on his heels in place, hands firmly behind his back. Skull hasn't even noticed he's still here, but Vintage stares at him fiercely. Army catches his sharp red eyes and swallows, but approaches the table nonetheless, and reveals even more sheets and notes from behind him.

"I might have, uh, a few more for you to look over!" Army holds the sheets out, and Skull doesn't move. "So glad to have some so dedicated as our leader. Can you have these ones checked for today too?"

Sensing that the issue isn't going to just get up and walk away, Skull snatches the papers and skims over them. No, he really, really cannot mentally handle more map plannings. Some of these are the same as ones he's already gone over, but with new tweaks, making at least an hour of his work today completely redundant.

"…Sure."

"Excellent!" Army was not going to take his chances sticking around much longer, and made a hasty retreat back to the staircase. "Thank you so much Skull!"

The planning, the battling, the drama. How much did Skull have to lead? He was the final decision in everything, and under as much pressure as he was recently, it was getting really tiring, but he knows his team is tired too. Army's starting to edge into a coffee and spiral notebook obsession, Mask hasn't touched a game in weeks, and even Aloha is starting to dread interviews and guest appearances. They're trying their best in their practices together, but the stress is starting to taint their matches, and Skull's found himself pointing his E-Liter at his own team as much as his enemies. He's so tired of acting like he has it all together, but he knows one slip in his facade and the whole team will fall apart. If he just keeps making these notes, it'll be fine. If he can just keep going…

And then his pen runs out of ink.

A flying biro just misses Vintage with such sharp precision and such power that he feels it anyway as it sticks into the wall behind him. Skull yells out, pulling at his tentacles as his bandana finally drifts down to his chest in defeat. Vintage reaches out immediately, and takes his QPP's hand. It's shaking.

"Calm down." He says. "I'm here."

Looking up, Skull's furious eyes meet the mellow scarlet of Vintage's. His grip falters, but Vintage makes up for it and holds his hand tighter, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Skull looks away. His face feels heavy as the tension in it slips out in Vintage's hold. "…I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologise." His words are quick, but picking his eyes back up Skull can feel the concern melting Vintage's face into a softer expression. "You're not doing anything wrong."

"I…" Skull takes both of his hands and focuses them on Vintage's one. He runs his thumb over each of the fingers, and feels the swirls Vintage's fingerprints with the loops of his own. He wants to talk about it, but something grabs him by the stomach and keeps his words glued there.

"I feel dumb, talking about it."

"It's not dumb." Vintage understands more than anyone. The X Blood is not an unpopular team, and he knows exactly what the pressure of leading three formidable inklings can be like. "Being a leader is hard."

Skull gazes up at him, well aware of every little mistake his past self still makes him face, hopeless. "I'm terrible at it, Vin."

"That's not true." Vintage doesn't miss how Skull's eyes widen at that, or how his mouth compresses itself into a tiny 'O'. "You're doing a good job, Skull. This tournament is a big deal. It's stressful." He leans forward, and lets Skull take his hand from the table to his face, and watches as Skull leans into the touch. It's small, but Vintage turns it at the wrist and runs his thumb on Skull's cheek, the frustration ebbing away in the tiny touches.

Skull closes his eyes and shifts his focus to just his words. "They all rely on me so much… I have to be there for them."

"They have to be there for you." Vintage catches Skull's attention, and Skull's eyes flutter back open, locked back on face in front of him. It's a ball of visual contractions - the points of the ears and the sharply cut tentacles broken up by the roundness of the nose and chin. It's all there, locked into this one sky blue squid. "I'm here for you."

"I know you are Vin, but…"

"But what? Don't you believe it?" Vintage pulls all four of the hands to the middle of the table, and brings them both to eye level. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Skull breaks the eye contact, choosing to look at their hands instead. "Maybe…"

Vintage isn't going to ask twice. He lets go of the hands, stands up and pulls his Nylon Vintage off, slumping it over the back of his chair. He walks round the table to Skull, and holds his hand out. Skull meets it with his own and feebly rises, and follows as Vintage pulls them out of the dining room and into the living room, dragging them to the sofa and sitting down with a thump. Putting an arm around Skull, he pulls his partner into him. The taller squid stays stiff for just a moment, before collapsing into his partner's soft embrace.

Vintage is warm and soft and smells of fruit and spices, and his shirt's texture is heavenly, and underneath it he's squishy, and Skull nuzzles into his chest without hesitation. Vintage undoes the tie that keeps Skull's longer tentacles in place and lets them fall down, running over one of them with his hand. They're smooth and almost silky, but above all they're heavy, and Vintage wonders how Skull keeps them tied up all day. Skull seems to appreciate the adjustment as he almost purrs into the contact and holds on, even closer. They stay like that, caught into each other's touch, and Vintage watches as Skull closes his eyes and rests, just for a minute.

Vintage moves from Skull's tentacles to his bandana, and fiddles with the knot. Skull makes a small noise as he adjusts his position and reaches back to loosen the knot completely, slipping the item off from around his neck and throwing it to the other end of the sofa. He presses himself into Vintage further and clings onto his sides, before sliding down and turning his head to rest his cheek on the top of Vintage's tummy.

"I'm so glad none of them can see me right now…"

Vintage looks down at the squid sprawled all over him and using his stomach as a pillow. He knows exactly what Skull means, but smiles at the sight anyway. "It's okay to let them see you like this." Vintage places his words with meaning. They're just as important to Skull as they are to himself. "They care about you too."

"I know…" Skull knows they look up to him, and that they care about him BECAUSE they look up to him. They're all trying their best, for his sake, because they want to do well for him. They might get him into these messes, but they're always there to help pull him out. They want their victories as much as he does, but…

"They need me… if I go down, then…"

"That's not true," retorts Vintage. "They can hold their own while you respawn."

Skull smirks at how literal Vintage seems to take that. "Not just in battle, Vin. If I seem worried, upset, stressed…" The smirk doesn't last long, and Skull's melancholy expression returns. "If I show that to them…"

"Then they lose their figurehead." Skull's grip tightens as Vintage finishes his thought for him. "If you're bothered by it, then it must be bad."

Skull doesn't want to face the concept, and he tries to turn away, but Vintage just pulls him in even closer, not letting go. Not wanting to resist any more, not really, Skull lets himself fall back into the softness.

"But you are bothered by it, Skull. You shouldn't hide that. Not from them, and not from yourself."

Skull adjusts to look up at him. "I'm not allowed to be bothered by it."

"Yes you are," says Vintage. "You have to allow yourself to feel."

Skull raises where his eyebrows would be and gives Vintage a half hearted smile. "Do I?"

The sight in front of him is so pathetic, Vintage can't help but smile a little himself. "Yes, you idiot, you do."

Skull's hardly listening. After days of alternating between working for the upcoming tournament and trying to ignore how concerned Vintage has been for him, even the tiniest smile from his partner makes him feel giddy. Vintage watches as Skull stares at him intensely and blushes, that purple tint only momentarily visible before Skull pulls at the shorter squid's shirt and hides it.

"I've missed your smile…"

Well, Vintage can't keep his own cheeks clear with a comment like that, and a hint of pale blue soon decorates his face. "I've missed YOUR smile, Skully."

The nickname causes Skull's grin to stretch from ear to ear and he buries his face even further into Vintage's shirt, hiding his eyes and making a tiny whining noise as he does so. "Vintage… what about my notes?"

"They're not going anywhere. You can get back to them later." Vintage runs a hand over Skull's tentacles again and lets his flustered partner flop into him.

Skull knows the issue won't fix itself, just like how Splat Zones positions won't adjust themselves, or how his own emotions won't just go away if he wishes hard enough. But curled up on top of Vintage, none of that seems to matter anyway. 

Ah well. Some time just spent in the moment, feeling instead of thinking… 

Five minutes more on the sofa won't hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Some people??? Write qp squids????? To cope???????


End file.
